


Incurable

by mercuryeah



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Gay, Gay Male Character, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, M/M, Thorin Is an Idiot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7970446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercuryeah/pseuds/mercuryeah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins is normal. He hopes. He's a junior in high school, he likes to draw, he has a couple close friends and he gets good grades in most of his classes. But he has been hiding the fact that he has an incredible way with words from other people for quite some time. Apparently, all it takes to coax it out of him is a hunky foreigner with an incurable awkwardness when talking to other people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. uprooted

**Author's Note:**

> Um okay, so this is my first fic in uhhh, like four years, and the one I wrote then was so awful. I like to write and stuff, and so I was hoping that this goes well. If anyone sees any mistakes or room for improvement, pleeaaase let me know. This first chapter is short I know, but I'm really testing the waters here and I want to see what kind of feedback I get, if any heh. SO. with that, I hope you enjoy my humble work.

Thorin Durin was a senior. He stayed after school everyday in the applied arts room, welding and hammering some odd jewelry project, as was his hobby. With his long dark hair caught in a loose ponytail, his muscular build bent over his work, and sweat glistening on the back of his neck, Bilbo could hardly be blamed for being so captivated by him.

Bilbo, who had an artistic hobby of his own, had simply wanted to peacefully sit and sketch with the expensive school charcoals for a while. Bilbo’s usual sketch spot was the fine arts classroom, but his teacher, Mr. Collins, told him he’d be starting a basket weaving club everyday after school from now on. So, after being directed there by Mr. Collins, Bilbo decided the applied arts classroom would have to do, though he didn’t know what kind of people hung out there after school. Needless to say he was completely zapped of all his calm and confidence when he discovered it was to be just him and… and Thorin.

Bilbo had only one class with Thorin, his french class. Bilbo, already very good at french since his grandmother spoke it, never spoke or paid attention, opting to sketch the whole period. He had noticed Thorin right away. He was a good student, but new to the school, and he had some kind of gruff accent; very subtle, but still there. The last person Bilbo had expected to see working on something as intricate as metalwork was Thorin. He’d expected him to be a sport player for sure with his, healthy build. Hesitantly, Bilbo took a seat a couple chairs away from the metalwork bench, facing Thorin’s broad back. To help him focus, Bilbo stuck one headphone into his left ear and then turned to his sketchpad, carving out the basic shape of a mountain with his charcoal.

He sketched in peace for a solid twenty minutes, Thorin working the whole time. About a half an hour in, Bilbo noticed the absence of the sound of Thorin’s soldering iron and hammer. He looked up as Thorin was turning around and removing his apron. To Bilbo’s surprise, Thorin flashed a timid smile at him as he lifted the neck of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his jawline. Bilbo, trying not to swoon, raised his eyebrows as if to ask if Thorin was smiling at him, which was absurd as he was the only other person in the room.

He smiled back after probably too long and Thorin, as if sensing Bilbo’s incredulousness, chuckled softly. Bilbo knew his face was a ripe shade of red, and he felt utterly ridiculous for acting so flighty. “This isn’t normally where people come to sketch quietly, mostly because it’s not quiet.” Thorin said, breaking the silence that was particularly dense after the loud banging of his work. Bilbo was frozen, the only thing he could feel moving was his pulse squeezing rapidly through his veins which seemed much tighter than usual.

Bilbo gulped and choked around a forced laugh, and then silenced himself quickly. By god, he was an awful mess.  
“I uh, had to relocate. In other words Mr. Collins uprooted me for his basket weaving club.”  
Thorin let out another breath of laughter through his nose, and Bilbo smiled, pleased to have caused it. And with that, Thorin hung up his apron, put his tools into the cabinet, packed his work into some newspaper before even got a glimpse of it, and was out of the room.


	2. A start to the Back Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The flirtation continues!! Bilbo steps up his game and Thorin, forced to now say more than a sentence or two, is way out of his depth! yeah! A little bit of history from Thorin, Bilbo is an intense busy-body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo readers. I'm super guilty about posting this so late but eh. Life happens and I'm also pretty insecure about this because I know there's like, extensive room for improvement so it took me a minute to get going. I'm reluctant to set a regular posting date because I feel like I'll miss it every time, but I'm gonna play it by ear and try to work something out. Thank you SO MUCH to all the lovely noodles who took time to leave comments, I didn't respond but I did read them all and they really made me smile so thank you to those lovelies. Alright, I think that's everything, so here we go! chapter two!

For all of the following week, Bilbo and Thorin smiled at each other in french class. On thursday after class was over, Thorin jogged up to Bilbo as they were leaving the classroom, and smiled at him around the scruff on his chin. 

 

“Which way is your next class?” He asked and slowed his steps considerably when he glanced down and noted Bilbo’s short legs. Bilbo smiled back at him, entirely pleased with having the opportunity to redeem himself for his social fluke the week previous. He still couldn’t believe how abysmally he’d struggled through Thorin’s simple questions back in the applied arts room.

 

“I’m straight down this hallway. I’ve got trigonometry next. You’re gonna walk with me, right?”

 

Thorin raised his eyebrows and looked at the ground, feeling heat in his chest at being called out so boldly. 

 

“I- yeah. That’s the plan.” He chuckled at himself and scrubbed the back of his meaty neck under his ponytail. They chatted about class as they strolled casually down the hall, shoulder to shoulder, both secretly very happy to be in the other’s presence. 

 

When they turned the corner at the end of the hallway, the bell rang signalling that they had one minute left to get to their classes. 

 

“Shoot, your class isn’t far, is it?” Bilbo covered his mouth as he realized the leisurely pace they’d been walking at. Thorin twiddled the strap of his backpack and started trying to think of excuses but Bilbo huffed and beat him to it.

 

“It totally is! I’m so sorry I didn’t even think to ask if your class was near here and I made you walk with me!” Bilbo started to push Thorin in the opposite direction, little feet sliding in his effort to get Thorin to move, muttering about Thorin being late. 

 

Thorin was caught unawares when Bilbo pushed his weight into him suddenly, but virtually nothing happened and Thorin couldn’t help but laugh at Bilbo’s struggles to move him.

 

“It’s really fine, I- uh, well I wanted to go this way. It’s fine…. Bilbo. Bilbo!”

 

Bilbo looked up at him and took a step back. He narrowed his eyes and blew a stray curl out of them. 

“Alright. But you better start running now or you’ll be late!” he nodded to himself as if satisfied with his scolding and turned to enter his classroom. 

 

“Oh, wait, Bilbo, are you gonna come to the art room after school today?” Thorin asked, fidgeting, Bilbo with his hand on the doorknob. He turned around with a mock look of exasperation on his face, huffing out an exaggerated sigh. 

 

“Yeah, sure, now go! I will not be held responsible for your lateness!” and with that he shut the door to his classroom almost on Thorin’s nose. Thorin laughed to himself, feeling extremely happy and extremely stupid, and then the time and place caught up with him and he bolted down the hall, not looking back when a paper fell from his bag. 

  
  
  
  
  


Walking into the applied arts room, Bilbo had a brief flash of nervousness, but he stamped it down and went in, spotting Thorin at his workbench already. 

“Ahem,” Bilbo said, hand outstretched, gripping a sheet between thumb and forefinger with Thorin’s name written at the top. 

 

“You were late, weren’t you?” He asked, fighting a smile, as Thorin looked at the paper in Bilbo’s hand with slight confusion before realizing what it was and taking it with a beet red face. 

 

“Thanks,” he mumbled. “And no, I was not late. I ran.”

 

“You must be damn fast. I’d swear there were five seconds until the final bell.” Bilbo pulled up a stool at the table next to where Thorin was working and pulled his sketchbook out of his bag, keenly aware of Thorin’s eyes on him. He took out the charcoals he’d stolen from the other arts classroom and flipped open to his mountain sketch, intending to continue it. He chewed his lip, knowing that the lack of sound around him meant Thorin was still just staring at him. 

“Uh, Thorin, aren’t you gonna w-”

 

“Waiting.” Thorin blurted out, looking as if he seriously regretted letting the word escape him. 

“I was waiting for you to get your things out..” he stood there for a solid ten seconds, Bilbo also frozen, eyebrows knitted but lips quirked.  Realizing that his explanation was still not explanation enough, Thorin placed a hand on his forehead and blew out a heavy, nervous sigh. 

“I wanted to wait for you to get your stuff out ‘cause I want to see what you’re working on.”

 

Bilbo’s face relaxed and he tilted his head back with an “ohhh, okay. Here.”  he held out his sketchbook for Thorin to see. Thorin stepped closer to Bilbo and sat on the stool next to Bilbo, studying the drawing with a serious expression.  Bilbo was wringing his hands slightly, not used to people looking at his work other than his teacher. His thoughts were going in all sorts of directions about what Thorin would say, but they stopped when Thorin slid the sketchbook back to him and scratched his chin. 

 

“That is.. So good, Bilbo. Like,  _ really _ good.” 

 

“I- thanks.” Bilbo smiled both sheepish and proud. “But now this means you have to let me see what you’re working on.” He smirked and kicked his feet where they were dangling off his stool excitedly. 

 

“Yes, okay,” Thorin said through a smile and went to the closet where students kept their works in progress. He came back with a small, coppery object that just fit into the palm of his hand.  Silently, Thorin took Bilbo’s hand and placed his creation into it. It was heavier than Bilbo had expected it to be and looked quite a bit larger in Bilbo’s much smaller hand. He couldn’t exactly tell what it was, perhaps a handle of sorts, but it had amazingly beautiful geometric symbols carved in smooth grooves over its entire surface. 

 

“Is it a handle for something? Bilbo asked, running a finger over one of the tenderly carved shapes in Thorin’s work. 

 

“Yes, for a short blade. That, I must make elsewhere, as we do not have the recourses here.” He stood close to Bilbo, chest about level with Bilbo’s neck, breathing quite heavily. 

“The markings are the ancient language of my people.” It sounded like a confession, and obviously it had taken Thorin some time to decide to reveal this fact, so naturally Bilbo was highly interested, but he made sure to keep his excitement in check. 

 

“Right, you’re from Erebor. So, do you practice this language?” he asked tentatively, handing the handle back to its owner. 

 

“Yes. It is something like how Jewish people learn hebrew, or people who speak Sindaarin in the church.” He sounded sad, and his gaze was off somewhere, nowhere in the room, but much further away, Bilbo could tell.  “But our current language, Khuzdul, is not that far off from the old speak. We teach both to our children as they are raised and the two dialects are almost indistinguishable.” Bilbo nodded, smiling through Thorin’s explanation. He didn’t see Thorin that often, but he had the feeling that he wasn’t one much for sharing personal anecdotes, and that made him feel, perhaps, just a bit special, but he knew better than to say anything regarding that. This moment was about Thorin, and rather a bit too sullen for such chatter.

 

“That’s really nice of you to tell me, I appreciate it. I know your move was pretty recent. If you’re ever feeling homesick, my mother makes an excellent rhubarb pie that’ll fix you right up.” He smiled the most genuine, healing smile at Thorin who, upon receiving such radiance, blinked in surprise and felt his chest tighten considerably. 

 

“Thank you, Bilbo,” He said and it sounded lame to Thorin’s ears, but he meant it with utmost sincerity. 

  
  


They each went about their work after that -well, after about another thirty seconds of staring at eachother- Bilbo finishing up the landscape around the mountain, and Thorin slowly polishing the copper of his handle into a dull twinkle. At four thirty, Bilbo’s head shot up. 

“I’ve got to babysit at five!” he said with no other context. Thorin looked up from his own work when Bilbo spoke, and fought his disappointment at seeing Bilbo packing up his things. 

“Uhhh. here,” he grabbed a pen from behind his ear that Thorin had entirely missed, probably because it was completely buried in auburn curls, and seized Thorin’s hand which looked almost ridiculously large right next to Bilbo’s. He scribbled a string of numbers onto the back of Thorin’s hand and then tucked his pen back into its frizzy nest. 

“Text me sometime tonight,” He said with a gleaming smile. 

“Bye!”

It seemed to Thorin that they always left each other in a rush. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to double space my dang chapter in the original format and I'm too lazy to fix it so sorry it looked weird.


	3. Awkward Explanations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin does as he's told and texts Bilbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay it's been eons I'm so sorry. I always get like, pre-discouraged before I even start writing if that makes sense. I whipped this chapter up on like a sprinkle of random inspiration so It's kind of :/ Anyway I'm not that mad at it so here it is. A reminder that this work is only being edited by moi as of now so please excuse any errors. Enjoy!

Hello -Unknown number

 

Hi, is this you, Thorin? -Bilbo

 

Yes. How was childsitting? -Unknown number 

 

Babysitting you mean? Uhh, tiring I guess is all I’d say. -Bilbo

 

Ah. They are very young? -Thorin <3

 

Yeah. Four and seven. It took me an hour to get them to bed :( -Bilbo

 

Wow. That’s quite a long time. So you’re fond of children? -Thorin <3

 

Yes, very. When they behave themselves of course lol -Bilbo

 

I wanted to apologize for dumping random family history at you earlier today. I fear it was too personal, but It is the way of my people to give little pieces of our lives to.. 

Thorin stared at the cursor as he struggled to think of words other than ‘one we wish to court.’ To start off he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to say something so bold, and he also knew the phrasing was awkward, but he didn’t know a better English alternative. 

People we meet that we like -Thorin <3

There. Good enough. 

 

No please don’t be sorry! I was trying to conceal it out of respect, but I was actually quite excited that you were sharing a personal story with me. You don’t seem like the kind of person to go around oversharing if you don’t mind me saying. It made me feel special that you told me. I am special, aren’t I? -Bilbo

 

You are not like other people. In a good way. And I like you. -Thorin <3

 

So I’m definitely special. You’re mighty special if I do say so myself. All talented and tall and mysterious. ;) -Bilbo

 

I am not mysterious. -Thorin <3

Am I? -Thorin <3

 

Oh yes you are. Dark, (very) strong, and silent. It’s quite intriguing. Or have you not noticed the average of six or so girls swooning at you when you get up to sharpen your pencil in french? -Bilbo

 

Actually no, I had not noticed. -Thorin <3

 

Ohh. Too busy noticing the little boy in the back with the messy red hair, right? Lol -Bilbo

Thorin chuckled aloud at the latest message from Bilbo and typed and sent the words that came to his mind without a second thought.

Well yes -Thorin <3

Shit

 

Sorry I did not mean to send that <3

 

Oh calm down. I thought I made it quite clear that I’m very much into you. There’s no need to be shy -Bilbo

 

Oh. Well then I have to tell you something -Thorin <3

 

Tell away -Bilbo

 

I lied when I said that my people share stories with people we meet. We actually reserve those only for ones whom we find endearing, sincere, and whom we wish to court -Thorin <3

 

Alright shakespeare I’m assuming that by court you mean date, and if so then I’d like to very much -Bilbo

 

I am rough with some obscure English terms. So yes, I suppose I mean date. Also using the correct form of ‘who’ does not make me comparable to shakespeare. -Thorin <3

Bilbo laughed out loud at Thorin’s text 

Is that sass I detect? -Bilbo

 

No -Thorin <3

 

I like it. I knew you had a little feist to you. Not just rippling muscles and a quirky accent are you? -Bilbo

 

My muscles do not ripple of their own accord -Thorin <3

 

Of course not. I have to get going, it’s quite late. You can show me how you make those pecs ripple on purpose then tomorrow. -Bilbo

 

Okay I will show you tomorrow. Goodnight -Thorin <3

Again Thorin had failed to check himself before he sent his text and commenced sweating profusely until Bilbo responded.

 

That a boy ;) goodnight. -Bilbo


End file.
